Spirit Of Atlantis. Anne Mather

      ‘Don’t …’ he said, as her hands sought to obstruct him. ‘Don’t stop me. Oh, Julie, you’re beautiful!’

      ‘Am I?’

      Her breath came in little gasps and his mouth curved in sensuous approval. ‘You know it,’ he groaned, his lips against her creamy flesh. ‘Oh, God, what am I going to do about you?’

      ‘Do about me?’ she echoed confusedly, but his mouth covered hers once again, silencing any further speculation. The urgency of his caress drove all coherent thought from her head, and soft arms wound around his neck in eager submission.

      Her convent upbringing had not prepared her for this, or for the unexpected sensuality of her own nature, and her instinctive response was all the more unrestrained because of it. She was warm and soft and responsive, her silky body yielding to his with innocent fervour, and Dan almost lost his own grip on sanity as he continued to hold her. She was so completely desirable, so eminently responsive to his every overture, and the urge to lay her on the rocks and submerge himself in her honeyed softness was almost overpowering. He doubted she would oppose him. She was all melting passion in his arms. But if he had been overwhelmed by her artless submission, he was still rational enough to realise that she was not entirely aware of what she was inviting. He could imagine her reaction when she came to her senses, and she would resent him bitterly if he took advantage of her innocence.

      For all that, it was incredibly difficult to resist her, and a groan was forced from him as he compelled her away. Then, avoiding her look of hurt bewilderment, he bent and picked up her towel, pressing it into her fingers with a rough insensitivity.

      Julie was mortified, as much by the awareness of her own wanton behaviour as by the realisation that he had given her the towel to cover her nakedness. He had taken advantage of her, and she had encouraged him, and what was more humiliating, he had rejected her.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ His apology came strangely to her ears, and her averted gaze turned blindly from the shocked realisation that he was no less aroused than before. ‘But—well, I guess I lost my head,’ he muttered half reluctantly, ‘and I guess you did too.’

      Julie licked her dry lips. ‘Lost your head?’ she echoed, as his meaning became clear to her. ‘But I wouldn’t—’

      ‘Yes, you would,’ he retorted harshly. ‘We’re not children, Julie, and you know I want you. However, aside from other considerations, I don’t honestly know what you want.’

      Julie blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying to her. It appeared she was wrong. He had not rejected her because of any inadequacy of her part. He had actually considered the possibility, but because he was more experienced, he had dismissed the idea. There was something horribly cold-blooded about the whole affair, and her head moved helplessly from side to side as she bent to retrieve her discarded bra.

      ‘Julie!’ He was speaking to her again, but she refused to answer him. She just wanted to get away, the farther away the better, and she struggled wildly when he endeavoured to detain her. ‘Julie!’ he said again, more forcefully this time. ‘Julie, listen to me! When am I going to see you again? Today? Tonight? When?’

      ‘Never, I hope,’ she choked, throwing back her head, her hair cascading damply about her shoulders. ‘Just let me go—’

      ‘No, I won’t.’ He thrust his impatient face close to hers. ‘You’re not being sensible, Julie, and I don’t intend to let you go until you are!’

      ‘I’ll scream—’

      ‘In that state?’ His mocking eyes flicked the slipping ends of the towel and her face suffused with colour. But all the humour had left his expression, and he was deadly serious as he said: ‘Okay, you want the truth, you got it. When I’m with you, I can’t think sanely.’ His eyes burned above her. ‘But unlike you, I accept that people have feelings, and I didn’t want to hurt you.’

      Julie faltered. ‘To—hurt me?’

      ‘Yes, damn you,’ he muttered, unable to prevent himself from pulling her to him again. ‘There,’ he added hoarsely, ‘now tell me you don’t know what I’m feeling—you’re not that naïve. But I do know you’ve never been with a man before, even if you do learn fast.’

      Julie’s tongue appeared in unknowing provocation. ‘I—I don’t understand …’

      ‘Don’t you?’ His hands slipped possessively around her waist, hard and warm against the cooler skin of her hips. ‘Could you have stopped me? Honestly?’ He bent his head to her shoulder, his teeth gently massaging the soft flesh. ‘But wouldn’t you have hated me if I had?’

      Julie’s face burned. ‘You shouldn’t say such things!’

      ‘Why not?’ Dan lifted his head to gaze intently down at her. ‘It’s a fact.’

      Julie drew an uneven breath. ‘Let me go, Dan.’

      Her husky request brought a faint smile to his lips. ‘At last,’ he murmured. ‘I wondered what I’d have to do to get you to say my name.’

      ‘Dan, please …’

      Julie pressed her hands determinedly against his chest, but the hair-roughened skin was absurdly sensuous against her palms, and she stood there helpless in the grip of emotions she scarcely knew or understood.

      ‘Tonight,’ he said, his breath fanning her cheek as he bent towards her. ‘Have dinner with me, on the yacht. We can serve ourselves—just the two of us.’

      ‘I can’t.’

      The denial sprang automatically to her lips, and his mouth turned down at the comers. ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because I can’t.’ Julie freed herself from him without too much difficulty, and quickly slipped her arms into the bra, fastening the clip with trembling fingers. Then, gathering up her shorts and the towel, she turned back to him. ‘G-goodbye.’

      If she had expected him to object as he had done before, she was disappointed. With a weary shrug of his shoulders he bent to pick up his own pants, and thrust his legs into them without giving her another glance. It was as if he had grown bored with the whole exchange, and as on that evening at the hotel, he had abandoned the struggle.

      Conversely, Julie was left feeling strangely bereft, and stepping into her sandals she made her way across the shingle with a distinct sense of deprivation.

      The feeling had not left her by the time she reached the hotel, but in the sanctuary of her cabin she faced the fact that she had probably had the most lucky escape ever. As her blood cooled, reaction set in, and she sank down on to the bed trembling at the realisation of how near she had come to losing all respect for herself and betraying Adam’s trust in her. She didn’t know what had come over her, and for someone who for so long had regarded herself as immune from the kind of behaviour gossiped about in the dormitory after lights-out, it was doubly humiliating. She would never have thought she might have reason to be grateful to Dan Prescott, but she was, albeit that gratitude was tinged with anxiety. How long could she trust a man like him, she wondered uneasily, and how long could she trust herself if he persisted in pursuing her?

      It was lunchtime before she emerged from the cabin, and Pam intercepted her in the reception hall of the hotel. She had a letter with an airmail postmark in her hand, and Julie guessed it was from Adam before the other girl spoke.

      ‘Where have you been?’ she exclaimed, looking with some concern at Julie’s unusually pale features. ‘I thought you and Brad were going into Midland this morning. He was hanging about like a lost sheep until David went to collect the mail and took him along.’

      ‘Oh, Pam, I forgot all about it.’ Julie was dismayed. ‘I’m sorry. Where is he? I must apologise.’

      ‘He’s tackling a hamburger right now,’ Pam assured her lightly, pulling a wry face. ‘You know nothing affects his appetite. He did come to look for you earlier with this letter, but you